My Antique Habibi
by Xazz
Summary: These aren't his brothers, these aren't his people, this isn't his city, this isn't his Order and who is this Ezio who says he's the Mentor?
1. Chapter 1

He remembered a bright flash and someone yelling his name before darkness crashed down around him.

When he opened his eyes again it was to worn wooden planks overhead and the smell of manure in his nose. He heard the sound of sea birds from outside, which was, of course, impossible, as Masyaf was no where near the ocean. With a groan he sat up and rubbed his head which felt like he'd just been kicked in the head by a horse. Around him he could actually hear horses and he looked around. He was in a stable stall but they were unfamiliar to him and did not look like the ones at Masyaf. Where was he? He'd been lying in a pile of hay, and the stall was occupied by a roan stallion who looked at him with his deep dark eyes curiously.

With some trouble he got to himself but it felt like he'd lost all the bones in his legs. Well this was troublesome. He frowned deeply and grabbed onto the wall before he found his balance. It was foreign concept to him, he always had his balance. Was this how his students felt when he swept them off their feet? In that case he had a greater appreciation for it and why they sometimes lay on their backs like turtles helplessly. Still, he was not some novice, and he regained his footing quickly.

The stallion nickered as he went to the door of the stall. The bolting mechanism was out of reach. "Hello?" he called, trying to see through the bars, his throat was dry and his voice cracked so it came out like a wheeze. He cleared his throat and swallowed before calling in a much louder and clearer voice, "Hello! Can someone help me?"

He waited, listening, and the stallion butted his head up against his back, but he heard nothing. He frowned deeply and was about to call again when he heard someone. "Is someone there?" someone called from down the corridor.

"Yes, hello," he called back quickly.

A moment later someone came into view and he frowned, confused, but stepped back as they came up to the grate. He honestly didn't know if they were friend or foe. Not at a glance like Altair was so good at doing. He still didn't know how the young Mentor did it, yet another of Altair's many secrets it seemed. "What are you doing in here?" they asked and his brow furrowed, confused.

"I… don't know," he confessed. The person on the other side was a woman but, they were dressed similarly to a novice. What in the name of God was going on? Why was a woman dressed in grays? Did she have a death wish or something? Altair might have been a moderate as far as most men were concerned, after all his wife was a warrior and an ex-Templar at that, but even he did not allow girls to become novices.

"Did someone play a trick on you?" she asked, pulling down her mask.

"Perhaps," he said. "I woke up here. Will you let me out?"

She frowned, "What's your name? And why are you in a novice's clothes? You look too old to be one of us."

He bristled but held his tongue. "Part of the trick I guess," he shrugged. "My name is…" it actually took him a moment. Shit what had happened to him? He must have hit his head or something. "Rauf."

"Really now," she folded her arms across her chest. "There are no members of the Order named Rauf in the city. I know because we know everyone. Who are you, _really_?"

"I am Rauf," he insisted. "I don't mean you any harm, I swear. I just don't know what happened here."

She frowned a little, "You could be a Templar-

"I am not one of those infidels," he spat, "Do not shame me with such talk child or I will have your tongue."

She stiffened at that. He was not surprised. Rauf was a very easy going man, he knew this. But even he had thorns, like any good Assassin, and he did not take well to _novices_ talking back to him any more then any other of his brothers. He especially had to have a way to make the more stubborn and hard to handle novices listen, and as most of them were orphans he simply filled a space as a father and took the tone of one too. It effected everyone, even if they were not orphans, because no one wished to upset their father. Clearly this novice was no different. "Apologies," she said quickly, adverting her eyes. "But I do not trust you, whoever you are," and then without a word she left.

"Wait!" Rauf called and jumped to the grate. "You can't leave me here!"

"I am going to get the Master, he will know what to do with you," she threw over her shoulder. The Master she'd said. So Altair, right? Of course it was Altair, who else could it be? He'd sort this out and tell him why there was a _girl_ in novice grays. With a sigh he turned around and faced the stallion in the stall with him. It blinked at him slowly as he slid against the door to sit on the ground, back against the door so he couldn't get snuck up on.

At least an hour passed before he heard footsteps and he was on his feet before they were even in sight. He took a few steps away from the grill just in case, but he wasn't too worried. If they'd wanted him dead they could have just left him there, or that novice could have killed him… eventually of course, but she would have. This time a man stood in the little window. He was an older man, much older, with a graying beard and dark robes, though not quite as dark as a Dai's. Very obviously he was not Altair and his heart sank. "Hello," he said cautiously.

"Your name is Rauf?" he asked, without any pleasantries, his accent was awful. Worse then a French Templar's. Worse then a German Templar's actually. It was almost a pain to listen to and he winced a little from how thick the Arabic was.

"Yes," he nodded.

"There is no Assassin by the name of Rauf in Constantinople, who are you and what are you doing in our stables?"

"Constan-Constantinople?" he gaped, not that he couldn't say the name, but it was just… "This is Constantinople?"

"Yes, of course it is," the older man said slowly, wary now.

"I… I don't know what I'm doing here," Rauf admitted. "I swear to you I just woke up here and have no idea how I got here," he pleaded.

The man narrowed his eyes slightly, "Why do you dress like us?"

"Why do I- Why do you dress like me?" he demanded right back. "I am an Assassin."

"Then what is our Creed?"

He blinked and felt deeply insulted. What was he a novice?! "That nothing is true, and everything is permitted. Even the most camel brained novice knows that," he said viscously. His great patience was starting to wear thin. While he was a very patient man this entire situation was frustrating and he was getting very muddy, foggy, answers and honestly didn't know what was really going on. It would be enough to try the patience of a saint, and Rauf never claimed to be that (no matter what Malik liked to tease him about).

"Hmmm," the man said.

"I don't even know who _you_ are," he added irritably.

"I am Ezio Auditore da Firenze, Mentor of our Brotherhood," said the older man, Ezio. What a strange name. But what was stranger was his title. Surely he had to be joking. Altair was the Mentor and he was not nearly old enough to have just suddenly died. Not to mention he'd never heard of this man before. "And you are Rauf."

"Rauf al-Naib," he added. "I am an instructor at Masyaf and I have no idea how I got here."

Ezio's eyes narrowed, "So you are one of _them_," uh-oh. One of who? "Well, around here we kill Templars-

"I am not a Templar!" he yelled. "You may be my elder but you are as stupid as a novice!" he snapped, his patience and ability to cope fraying. He was running short on patience and looked up at the top of the stall door. He could climb that.

"Don't think about it. I have crossbow men with me," Ezio said.

"I am not afraid of crossbow men," Rauf told him flatly. "Now either let me out of here, or I am climbing out. I don't have the patience to continue this charade, it smells like shit in here and I have a headache. Make up your mind Ezio for one way or another I am getting out of here," he said, face hard. Any who knew him knew he was at the end of his line now, as he was swearing. Mild mannered Rauf was swearing. It was a time his students feared because he was merciless.

Ezio contemplated him, "I ask only one thing," he said, "if you are one of us, you will have the mark like one of us. Show me," he ordered.

Rauf walked over to the grate and shoved his left hand through the bars, making a fist as he did so. "Is this proof enough for you old man?" he demanded angrily, his hidden blade suddenly ejecting from it's normally contained position. The cold steel of the blade rested against the stub of his ring finger and he stared Ezio down, unintimidated by the man or the fact that he did indeed have two crossbow men with him. Ha. Just two. He was insulted.

His display had startled Ezio, but he managed not to get stabbed by his hidden blade at least. "You are missing a finger," he said.

"Of course I am. Everyone my age is still missing a finger, we can't all be as lucky as those young novices who only have to suffer a branding," and he flicked his hidden blade back into it's sheath. "Are you going to let me out now or not?"

Ezio had unreadable eyes, but after a moment he leaned over and Rauf heard the lock unbolt. He drew his hand back in as the stall door started to slide open. He slipped through the door, which was opened enough for him, but not the stallion. Ezio was taller then he looked from the other side of the stall, and now that he could see properly he was also armed to the teeth. The crossbow men aimed at him. "You say you're from Masyaf," Ezio said.

"Yes."

"I have been to Masyaf. There is nothing there but bones, snow, and Templars."

He shook his head, "That cannot be," Rauf said.

"It is," Ezio said gravely.

He frowned, "I am very confused," he admitted, "I don't know how I came to be here, or who you are. I need to speak with the Mentor."

"I am the Mentor," Ezio said.

"You are no Mentor I know Ezio," he confessed. "I need to speak with Altair, he will clear up this mess."

Ezio became very quiet, "That is impossible," he said.

"What is?"

"To speak to Altair."

"What? What do you mean? How is it impossible?"

"Because. Altair has been dead for four hundred years."

Rauf's eyes widened before he passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

I still haven't played AC:R, so there will probably not be a lot resembling canon in here oUo

* * *

The next time he came to it was under much more pleasant circumstances. He reminded himself he needed to stop blacking out, it was amazingly unprofessional. If Altair or Malik saw him they would mock him for sure that he was feinting like a novice. His gut clenched. Hadn't Ezio said Altair was dead? He didn't understand. He didn't want to though, it made him feel sick.

Instead he focused on what was before him. He turned his head to look around, to try and figure out where he was. He was in a room that looked like a normal Assassin's cell with a bed, side table, a desk and chair, he assumed a chamber pot under the bed, and a trunk pushed up against a wall under the window. The shutters were open but pale drapes hung over the open window and they moved in a gentle breeze. Slowly, he sat up with a slight groan.

He checked himself to see if he was injured but found he was not. But what he did find was that his weapons and armor and shoes were missing. Even the few hidden throwing knives he kept on his person just in case were gone. He stood up abruptly, legs wooden, he needed to find his gear. Not that he wasn't plenty capable on his own, but losing his hidden blade was unacceptable. It could fall into the wrong hands, even if it was still the old model. Altair had tried to give him the newer one but he'd said no, and had continued to say no for the new models were for fighting. Rauf preferred the more delicate old ones that couldn't take a beating like the new ones.

Before he got too ahead of himself he checked around the room. He was a bit relieved to see most of his clothing in the trunk, in fact, upon looking closer, all his clothing was in the trunk save for his weapons. His eyes went to the rest of the trunk however, there were other sets of clothing in there as well and they were different from his own in style. Which made sense. He contemplated the clothing before standing up strait and yanking off his shirt. An Assassin was invisible, you did not notice him. His clothes now were very different then what Ezio had been wearing and even the novice he'd seen was not like clothing he was used to.

He pulled out a new set of clothes and tugged them on. They were different from his own, more colorful for starters with hints of blue and orange amid their white or beige. He took to the white ones though, they were familiar, though not totally, but enough as well as a muffler that went around his neck and he pulled it up over his face and beard. He took his red sash though, the others were blue, orange, yellow, gray or something almost pink. That and his armor and boots were the only things he kept from his old clothes, because they fit, though he'd seen Ezio and that novice. They wore pauldrons and chest plates, not bulky but he couldn't imagine fighting with them. His vambraces looked almost strange with the rest of the new clothing, for like everything else he'd owned they were conservative in design, made to be worn and take the damage for him, but there was no other armor and without them he felt naked. Well, he still felt naked without at least his hidden blade, but less so now still clothed in the familiar.

When he tried the door it was unlocked and he opened it slowly. He came face to face with another Assassins who looked dead at him. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, "Am I a prisoner?" Rauf asked calmly looking over the Assassin. These brothers were so… colorful, like a flock of parrots or song birds. He'd never seen anything like it.

"No," the Assassin said. "The Mentor requested that when you wake that you wait until he comes and sees you," he said.

Rauf frowned slightly under his mask, "Very well," he allowed, though really he didn't want to be here. He wanted to go find the familiar. "May I have some water?"

The Assassin nodded but waited until he understood to go back inside before leaving. Rauf waited thirty seconds before checking if the coast was clear. No one was in the hall and he slipped from the room and down the hall. He entered a common room, but no one looked at him. He knew that in his old clothes they he would have stood out, but in colors he was just another jeweled bird. How did they move about the crowd and not stand out? His brow furrowed and found a stairwell, climbing it, needing to get some place high. He passed a few novices who, while didn't bow their heads like back home, did advert their eyes respectfully. Yes, it was a good idea to change his clothes.

The building was three stories tall, plus the roof. He was glad to finally be under the sky, as lately it had been all indoors and stables. It was twilight, though he couldn't tell if the sun was rising or setting at that moment, for the sun was blocked out by a huge building to his personal north east. The building commanded the entire cityscape with its great rising dome and tall minarets. He turned slowly, away from the building and saw another, a bit less grand, but really not much. Beyond those two great buildings the rest of the city was very much what he expected, buildings rising and falling around him with flat roofs and tall piers sticking up from some from which long wires criss crossed the streets and city. He was at once overwhelmed and heart broken. This was no city he'd ever seen. The closest it looked to was Jerusalem, but even Jerusalem seemed to pale in comparison to… to Constantinople.

With a sigh he sat on the edge of the building, feeling as if his legs could no longer support his weight, his mind a whirl. What was he doing here? How did he get here? What had become of the Order for these men were like no one he'd ever met before. He knew the Order did not reside simply in Syria, they sent death to many corners of the world and he'd seen Altair receive messages from places as far off as India and China and even the Mongolian Steppes. No they were not alone, but they all followed the same Creed, it was what bound them all together as brothers. But there was only one Mentor, which resided in the epicenter of the Order and for whom all other branches of the Order listened to for his word was law. That man was Altair yet… Ezio said he was Mentor. It made no sense.

With surprising speed the sun rose, bathing Constantinople in it's brilliant light. Rauf was reminded that he was hungry. He hadn't eaten since who knew when and his stomach growled. But he felt rooted to the spot, he literally could not make himself get up and go see if he could find something to eat and instead would just stay there and let the morning light wash over him.

Behind him the door to the roof opened. He twisted around, he knew he'd be missed, that they'd probably been searching for him as soon as that Assassin found he was no longer in the room. He'd purposefully not gone very far though. "Ah, so this is where you ran off to," said the new Assassin on the roof. Like the others his uniform was cut through with jewel tones and he wore a turquoise and orange bandana around his head to keep his messy black hair from falling in front of his eyes.

Rauf eyed the other man, but did not feel threatened by him, despite the fact that he wielded far more weapons then he (which was to say, at least one). "If I had wished to run you wouldn't have known I was gone," Rauf said.

"Probably, yes," the man said, Rauf hated not knowing people's names. Back home he knew the name of everyone from novice to scholar to Master to Dai. He did not like not knowing, it made him feel lesser and incompetent.

"Who are you?" Rauf asked.

"I am Yusuf, Master of the Order," and he did a funny little bow. "And you are the mysterious Rauf who appeared in our stables," a grin stretched his face.

"I would not say mysterious," Rauf said, now having to tip his head back a bit to see him.

"You appear out of nothing in the stall of Ezio's prize stallion," Yusuf said cheerfully, "I believe that qualifies as mysterious," and then he offered his right hand. "Come, the old man wishes to speak with you still."

"Old man?"

"Ezio of course!" Yusuf said.

"He is rather old isn't he?" Rauf said and reached up to clasp Yusuf's arm. The older man pulled him to his feet smartly.

"Indeed he is," Yusuf agreed, "but don't say that to his face. He has a nasty glare for a feeble old man."

Rauf stared at the older man, "And I thought novices were disrespectful," he said in such a bland and serious voice that it could only have on true purpose. Yusuf laughed and Rauf smiled beneath his mask.

"Come, come, he is not getting any younger," and Yusuf ushered him back downstairs.

This time others noticed him. He didn't know if now because they knew what they were looking for, or because he was in Yusuf's company, but he tried to just ignore it. Not too hard honestly. Yusuf led him down to the ground floor and down a short hall that he thought was the same one his room was on, but it turned out was not for it spilled into a small closed garden. There was a fountain against a wall and there were trellises overhead with large pots to hold plants and decorative carpets and pillows strewn across the ground. He felt a pang of nostalgia for they looked like the bureaus back home and again he felt home sick. There was a table set up with three chairs by the fountain and Yusuf led him over to it.

"Wait right here yes?" Yusuf asked him, "I will go get Ezio before he sends men out to scour the city for you," he wasn't sure if Yusuf was joking or not, for the man always seemed to be joking.

"Why would he?"

"You'll have to ask him. He's a stubborn old man though," and then Yusuf was gone leaving Rauf in the garden. He looked around as he tugged his hood down around his neck and sat in one of the chairs. Above he could hear gulls, they must be close to the sea. He knew Constantinople straddled the sea, but even gulls only went so far inland. Close by, lower, on the street, he could hear people yelling, a market was near, and he could hear children playing and dogs barking. All around the world turned at the same pace it had been before he'd woken up in the stable, he was the one thing that was strange here and it made him slouch a bit where he sat.

He was so far into his own head that he missed the sounds of footsteps until they were on top of him and he jerked upright when Ezio sat in the chair opposite him with all the poise and elegance of a noble, or a man who wasted not a single movement. Rauf's critical eye, which was good at picking up false motion, saw exactly what Ezio was, a Master, a man they wrote legends about and who inspired fear and awe at his very presence. Altair was like that. But there was something… off about Ezio that did not fit with his image of a deadly warrior he was. In his head he crossed referenced both Mentors (he still had not decided if Ezio was indeed the Mentor but it would win him no points by saying anything to contradict him) in his mind the way he did against himself and novices to pick out bad footwork, or poor stances. It took him several seconds to figure out what was different. Altair wore his power and authority like a robe, it was part of him, and he had command over it and how it fitted across his shoulders. He'd never been trained to lead, but his authority and power were obvious and absolute. Ezio wore his like a shield, but as though it was some how fragile. Rauf did not see it as weakness, but it was a chink in the armor.

Yusuf took the other seat, practically sprawling into it, taking up seemingly as much room as he could, face easy going and calm. Huh. So this was Ezio's right hand man. He couldn't help but compare him to Malik and just about laughed. There was no way he could compare this man to Malik, for Malik was thorny and sharp, Yusuf was not. He thought they made a better pair then Altair and Malik though, for the former were always bickering like children and-

"Is there a reason you didn't abide by my request?" Ezio asked once he'd settled.

"I was informed I was not a prisoner," Rauf said, snapping out of his own head and into the conversation. "I wanted to be outside," he shrugged.

"You've already started to fit in I see," Ezio said glancing over his clothes.

"A good Assassin can hide in plain sight."

Ezio's lips twitched in amusement, "Yes," he agreed. "Last we spoke you said you wanted to speak to Altair."

"Yes," he leaned forward, "Is he here?"

Ezio shook his head, "No." Rauf frowned deeply from behind his mask. "I have not heard someone speak that name before recently for some time," he continued. "Decades perhaps. Did you know Altair?"

"Yes," he said slowly, now he was wary and on guard. "You know him as well?"

"In a sense," Ezio said. "He was, if you will, was a role model for me. The perfect Assassin-

"I would not call Altair _perfect_ anything, Ezio," Rauf couldn't help but interrupt. "Nor would I advise saying such anywhere within earshot of him."

Ezio blinked, seemed to stumble in his thoughts, but quickly found his footing again, "Why would that be? Would he find offense?"

"No. He would just become insufferable," and next to him Yusuf chuckled.

"Regardless," Ezio continued, "He was very good at what he did," Rauf was in the process of nodding when he froze.

"Did?" he asked.

"Rauf, you speak as if the man is alive, he has been dead for centuries."

Rauf's vision narrowed to a tiny point, he felt his mouth continue to move and heard the words, but they moved seemingly without connection to his thoughts, which had frozen. "That cannot be."

"It is so," Ezio said. "He was the last Mentor Masyaf had, and one of the greatest Mentors the Order has ever known. But that was centuries ago when the Order had a real foot hold here in the east."

"You're lying," Rauf said, he was trembling now.

"I assure you I am not-

"Altair is not dead!" suddenly he was standing. "My brothers are _not dead!"_ he yelled his vision finally expanding with his sudden outburst. Next to him Yusuf was still, watching him and he knew if he did anything stupid Yusuf would be on him in an instant. "I demand to know what sort of foul trick you are playing," he barked. "How did you bring me here without my knowledge and-

"Rauf, this is no trick," Ezio was still calm. At least one of them was for Rauf was hanging on by a thread. "Please, sit," and just like when Altair asked he did so and sat, his entire body tight like a coiled spring to the point he was shaking. "I'm sorry, but it is true."

"What am I doing here?" he said through clenched teeth.

"I don't know," Ezio said and he saw no lie in the man. "We were surprised by your arrival as you were. Tell me, what do you remember before you woke in the stable?"

"I remember someone… Altair," yes it had been Altair, he remembered now, "yelling my name," he swallowed, his throat felt tight. "Then brightness, and then I was waking up in your stable."

"Nothing before that?"

Rauf hesitated. There was more, but he could not tell. He'd been sworn to secrecy about the artifact. He'd been helping Malik with Altair in the Mentor's office, one away from the main desk, one where he kept the artifact under lock when it wasn't on his person. Malik had told him to drag Altair away from the artifact, the Apple, because he did not have patience for the young Mentor's obsession that day and Maria was napping with her son and neither of them wanted to risk her wrath at waking her. He'd been able to wake Altair from whatever trace he was in, but the Apple had rolled from the younger man's hand. Rauf had gone to retrieve it, calling a tease back at Altair. And then there had a bright flash, Altair yelling for him before… the stable.

He said none of this, "No," he said, "I was with some novices in the library."

"Hmm, strange," Ezio said. "I don't know how this happened Rauf but, you are not in the right place, nor the right time," at Rauf's silent question he elaborated, "It's fifteen twelve," Rauf's eyes widened. "I am not lying," he added since Rauf had about to accuse him of such.

Rauf grew very quiet and looked down at his lap. His mind was strangely blank. "I know this is perhaps a stupid question," Yusuf began, "but are you all right?"

Rauf blinked and looked at him, "No," he said slowly. "I am very much not all right," his eyes squeezed shut. "Everyone I ever knew is dead. You," he looked at Ezio, "say that Masyaf is full of Templars. I am in a city I have never been. I'm far from home. And, I'm weaponless," he rubbed his faced, dislodging his mask as he did so. "I fear I will not be all right for a long time," he sighed

"We could change that," Ezio said, Rauf looked at him despairingly. "I don't know how you came here, or how to send you back, but that doesn't mean you have to be without. You already look the part, join with us."

"There is nothing to join," Rauf said, "There is no way out of being an Assassin besides death," and he saw a pain in Ezio's eyes. "But, I do wish for a purpose."

"And you shall have one," Yusuf put in. "I am always in need of capable men as Ezio attracts understudies like moths to a flame, but they are not capable Assassins, such as yourself. I will say you are one of our brothers from the Mother Land, no one will question it." Rauf nodded. What else could he do? He was a man without a purpose, or a master. He found that funny too, since he was trained to be a leader, one to guide the hands of others, and now here was needing to be led. "I will make all the arrangements," he promised, "and return to you your weapons. After all an Assassin is not one without his gear," he smiled brightly. Rauf tried to offer one back, he didn't quite make it.


	3. Chapter 3

It felt good to be whole once more. Rauf had not realized how he'd missed his weapons till they'd been returned to him. Once his meeting with Ezio had ended Yusuf had jumped to his feet and, rather excitedly, had dragged him back inside the bureau.

"This is our armory," Yusuf said and Rauf stared a bit, but was grateful for his mask. "If you wish for your own weapons back, they will of course be given. But you have come a long way, perhaps you'd like to try something else?"

Rauf looked at the older man. Was he… being tested? "I am good with all weapons," Rauf shrugged, "Why don't you pick something for me to use for a while?" he challenged right back.

Yusuf's grin was infectious. "Ah, well, Ezio told me you came in with two swords. I have never seen anyone fight with two swords."

"Then you've never seen me fight," Rauf said proudly.

"Then that is even more exotic then any of these weapons, no?" he motioned to the racks of weapons.

"Exotic is just a word for novices," Rauf said and Yusuf laughed.

"True words my friend. I assume you want your swords back?"

"Yes. And my hidden blade, please," he said.

"Mhm," Yusuf nodded, "Oi, lazy!" he called to a novice who was doing nothing. "Go fetch our friend's weapons," and he waved the novice away who scrambled to his feet and left quickly. Then Yusuf turned back to Rauf, "You say you're a Master?"

"In my time, yes," Rauf said, "Master Instructor-

"Oh really!" Yusuf's eyes lit up at that excitedly. "Many of our men are self taught, or simply under the tutelage of another Assassin. We do not have proper… instructors," his eyes gleamed.

"I had not noticed," Rauf said flatly, but not without humor.

"Heh, you are a funny man Rauf," he said.

"My brothers think… thought so, yes," he said and his mood immediately dimmed.

Yusuf frowned, "Do not think of it," he clapped Rauf on the shoulder, "You are amid new brothers now and we welcome you with open arms," his smile was back and Rauf had trouble continuing being upset. The novice returned, "Very good," he said and took the weapons from the novice to present them to Rauf. "I am eager to see what you can do," he admitted. "Ezio told me you almost skewered him on your blade when you first met."

"I was frustrated," Rauf said as he held one of his scabbards between his legs while buckling the other into place. "You would be too if that old man was the first thing you saw after a pretty novice."

Yusuf howled with laughter. Rauf grinned as he buckled the second belt across his hips so that the short swords crossed behind his back in such a way that he could easily draw them yet would not impede his movements. He fixed his hidden blade into place next and only picked up half of the throwing knives he'd originally had. Rauf was an expert throw, but he did not do well at range, he was better at close distance. "Much better," Rauf sighed, feeling more at ease, now rearmed.

"We must do something about this though," Yusuf gripped his left arm and turned it upwards. Rauf refrained from breaking his wrist for the movement. It was not as though he was adversed to being touched (that was Altair, the stubborn idiot), it was that one knew better then to freely expose the delicate workings of the hidden blade to just anyone. As a young man he'd been taught often that an Assassin should guard his hidden blade like a secret he would take to the grave, for they would. If nothing else if an Assassin was in danger of capture or death they should try to destroy their hidden blade less it fall into the hands of the enemy, Templars or otherwise. "It is no good," Yusuf said.

"No good?" he asked.

"Of course not, it is old. It looks like it will snap at a moments notice," Rauf frowned. "Also there is no hook blade."

"Hook… blade?"

"Yes, see," and Yusuf ejected his own right handed one. That was finally when Rauf noticed he had not one hidden blade, but _two_. No one that Rauf knew used two hidden blades. But this was a different time he supposed. Yusuf's second blade had a strange attachment on it, a hook like a crook.

Rauf looked at it bewilderingly, "I think I will pass," he said.

"Really? One can't get around the city without one," Yusuf insisted.

"Really. I think I will keep my own," he put his hand on the underside of his forearm against his hidden blade. It, and only a few other things were all he had of home. He did not wish to part with them. Quite literally all he had were the clothes… no not even that, his clothes were in a trunk somewhere in this place.

"What is it Rauf?" Yusuf asked, sensing his sudden panic.

"I…" he shook his head, "Nothing. Just some home sickness is all," he said trying to remain positive.

"Ah, I can understand that. I would be distraught if I had to leave Istanbul. She is my one and only," Rauf nodded. "Now, lets see if you have the skills to match those pretty words of yours with those swords," he slapped Rauf on the hip and then beckoned him away. Rauf followed, not knowing what else to do.

—

Rauf crouched in the middle of the courtyard boredly, one sword in hand, parallel to the ground. Around him lay no less then a dozen men and women in various states of trying to pick themselves off the ground. "I'm vastly disappointed," Rauf said, turning on the balls of his feet to Yusuf who was standing to the side. "My novices back home are better then your fully trained men. When a dozen of those children come at me they at least make me draw the other one," he tapped his second hilt, which he hadn't drawn even now.

"I did not know one so small could be so skilled," Yusuf said, teasing, but also serious.

"A mistake many do not make a second time," Rauf said and rocked back onto his heels. "Does this satisfy your desire to see me fight Yusuf?" he asked, "Because I'm hungry."

There was a bit of silence, "Did these idiots not _feed_ you?" Yusuf demanded and then swore at some of the men on the ground. "Up, we will fix this travesty," he declared and Rauf reached back blindly and sheathed his sword before rising. "When was the last time you ate?" he asked and steered him inside, seemingly forgetting the men Rauf had just treated like children with wooden sticks for swords.

"Uh, before coming here."

"Ah!" he cried, "That has been almost two days. Why didn't you speak up sooner, you must be starving."

"I've been preoccupied all this time till just now," Rauf reminded him as he was guided through the den and out the door.

"Fair," Yusuf said letting him go once they were outside. The sun showed it wasn't even midday yet. "What are you hungry for? Constantinople has anything you could desire."

"Pita, humus, perhaps some olives," Rauf ventured.

"The food of a monk," Yusuf scoffed, "Is that what you eat back in Masyaf?" he didn't know if he was happy or sad to hear Yusuf refer to his home in the present tense.

"Yes," he said.

"You my friend, have not lived, and I will not stand for that," he waved a finger at Rauf and he felt like he was being scolded by a teacher and he was a novice. "Constantinople is rich and one would do her a disservice in not sampling all of her delicacies."

Rauf thought of saying he wanted something familiar. He was still a stranger in a strange land. But he figured perhaps that now, in the beginning, would be the best time to take the step off the ledge. He had no idea how he'd gotten here. He had no idea how to get home. He was stuck here. He had to do as the natives did. "All right," he said.

"Excellent!" and Yusuf was off. Rauf quickly followed after.

They walked down the street a few hundred feet before Yusuf scurried up a wall. "I cannot climb that," Rauf called up to him, for there was a jump that not even he could make. Yusuf was already at the top of the building before he turned back.

"Oh sorry," he called down, "You should have a hook blade," he teased, waving it at him.

"Ha ha," Rauf called back without humor and a roll of his eyes. "Let an old man get used to the sights before you go about teaching him new tricks," and he scanned the wall before finding a path he could follow twenty feet away. He took the running start and grabbed as high as he could and pulled himself rapidly up to the rooftop.

"You are younger then me, I should be saying such things," Yusuf reprimanded.

"I am from the twelfth century," Rauf said bluntly, "I believe I have you beat by four hundred years," and there was a strange silence as they stared at each other, most of Rauf's face unreadable. Then he cracked, his eyes crinkled and he laughed at Yusuf. "The look on your face," he declared and now Yusuf's face split. "Show me to food boy, I am starving," and he gave Yusuf a good natured shove.

"I'll show you boy," Yusuf said right back, full of mischief and took off at a run. Rauf bolted after him. They raced up buildings and where Yusuf took strange wires across buildings with his hook blade Rauf simply jumped across seemingly impossible gaps without one. It didn't take them long to reach the market, and as they dropped down to ground level they were both in high spirits and panting heavily. Rauf's stomach growled loudly.

"Does this seem like it would satisfy your hunger?" Yusuf asked him. The market was bustling and he could smell food close by. His stomach growled again.

"I hope so. Show me what there is," he encouraged.

Yusuf showed him through the market. Some things they bought, some things he saw the older man slyly pluck off the rack like a common thief. Rauf was not above stealing and did so in like. There were all manner of meat, some he knew others he didn't. Fruits and vegetables from all over in every size, shape, color, and exotic smell from all over the world. There was fresh baked bread and cheese practically strait from the goat's tit and fish so fresh some of them _still moved _and spices from the far east that lingered in everything and by the time they'd made it through the market Rauf had to stop and rest. He'd never eaten so much rich and varied food in his life. The Order in his time taught moderation and he was not used to this sort of food, that was besides the point that he had never really had sea food up till now.

"I think my stomach is about to explode," Rauf groaned, leaning against the wall, he felt fat and stuffed.

Yusuf chuckled, "Then we should keep pointy things away from you," he teased, Rauf made a face at him, clearly visible with his mask down. "Can you still climb?"

Rauf mentally examined himself to see if he could, "I believe so. If I had to," he patted his stomach.

"Then I will meet you up there," Yusuf pointed to the top of the building across the street.

"You would just pick the tallest one on the block," Rauf grumbled.

"Go go old man," Yusuf said pushing him in the right direction.

"And what about you, hmm?" he asked, giving him a look.

"Don't worry about me," he said, "Go on," he said sweetly, like a mother to a child. Rauf rolled his eyes and left Yusuf. He huffed as he came up to the base of the building and with a groan started to pull himself up the side. He climbed as quickly as he could before rolling onto the roof with a huff and laying on his back. Why had he eaten so much? He felt sick now. He needed time to digest.

He sat up a few minutes later when he heard someone climb up next to him. "And here I thought you'd abandoned me," Rauf teased, leaning back on his hands.

"That would be irresponsible," Yusuf said.

"You, irresponsible? Never," Rauf agreed, Yusuf snorted.

"No meal is complete without desert-

Rauf groaned, "I cannot eat another bite!" Rauf declared flopping back down on the roof.

Yusuf leaned over him, "You will want to try this. This baklava is the best in the city."

"I do not eat bird nests so do not even try," Rauf said even though he held out his hand. Yusuf smiled triumphantly and put a sticky piece of baklava on his palm. "If I explode I am blaming you," Rauf said.

"A risk I gladly take," Yusuf said, eating a piece himself. Rauf propped himself back up and took a bite. Yusuf was greatly amused by his face.

"This is amazing," Rauf said, totally dumbstruck.

"Did I not tell you?" Yusuf asked eagerly.

Rauf popped the second bite of the baklava into his mouth. "Food of the gods themselves," he declared and Yusuf offered him another one. He hesitated but took it. "I am not moving from this spot," he said once he'd finished it and lay back down on the roof. "I feel too fat to move."

"You are fat," and Yusuf poked his full stomach. Rauf slapped his hand away.

Rauf yawned, "Good food, good company, and a nice day out. The only thing that could make this better is-

"Is?" Yusuf asked.

"Is if I were home."

Yusuf frowned, "This is no Masyaf, but I'm sure Constantinople would gladly be your home," he said helpfully.

"I am sure," he pulled his mask up and his hood down to protect his face from the sun. "I think a nap."

"Fat and lazy, who would have-

Rauf punched him to make him shut up. Yusuf didn't take offense. Which was good because Rauf was already dozing. Above the gulls screamed.


	4. Chapter 4

Rauf woke in the same room the next morning as he had that first morning. He was surprised to learn that most of the Assassins had their own rooms, except for novices. He'd had to share a room until he'd reached the status it Master, but even then he'd only had one roommate, another instructor named Munahid. They were still friends.

He sighed up at the ceiling and thought about just rolling over and going back to sleep. He didn't want to deal with life, not right now. He'd had to before, because it came in the form of one Yusuf Tazim who had not let him dwell all day, his energy fueling them both until Rauf had been so tired last night he'd barely been able to undress before falling asleep. But now he was alone with nothing but his thoughts and they crushed him. It was the sixteen hundreds, and everyone he knew was dead.

He rolled over. He wasn't getting out of bed.

He lay there for a while, refusing to think of anything and making his mind as blank as he could. The sounds of the great city waking up filtered in through his window.

"Are you ever going to get out of bed lazy bones?" he sat upright, startled, by the sound of Yusuf's voice. He looked towards his window, as he was very much alone in the room, and saw Yusuf hanging over the sill. Rauf stared at him, "What?" he asked in his perpetual good mood. "Thought I was just going to leave you to stew in your own thoughts? The Mentor would have my hide."

Rauf blinked before asking, "Why would he do that?"

"Something about making sure his hero's friend wasn't left to feel bad about being out of his time. Or something," he flapped his hand as if it was no consequence.

"I cannot believe Altair is someone's hero," was all Rauf could think to say. Yusuf chuckled. "He's a bit of an asshole."

Yusuf laughed louder, "Get dressed, we have a busy day," he said and rocked on the sill. As Rauf was on the ground floor he was able to pull almost his entire body inside.

"With what?"

"Bombs," was all he said with a wide grin. At Rauf's confused look Yusuf said, "You don't have them?" Rauf shook his head. "Excellent! I will be able to show you then! Now dress, breakfast, bombs. If you get lost ask someone to the common hall,"

"Are you this annoying to all new members?" Rauf asked but did get out of bed, though he held his sheet around his waist.

"Only the special ones," Yusuf said with a wink as Rauf walked over to the window.

"Then I am honored," and he put his hand on Yusuf's forehead and shoved him off his sill. Yusuf yelped as he fell back onto his ass. "But I can get dressed without your help," and he closed the shutters with a light snap. Outside he could hear Yusuf chuckling. It seemed impossible to upset that man.

Rauf stared after him a moment before going to the trunk in the room. He dressed in his new clothes though added pieces back from his old uniform too, like his boots, his sash (he wasn't such a fan of the brightly colored ones the Turkish Assassins wore), his weapons harness and his hood. It was a different shape then the one of this time, but deeper. He looked into the trunk, also reaching for his mask when be saw another. He'd seen some of the Turks wearing them, full face masks made of some sort of super thin porcelain or metal, and black. He picked it up instead, leaving his old cloth one behind.

He tugged his hood up as he left his room and made his way to the common hall. He'd since memorized the den's layout and it wasn't that complex. What he'd found interesting was that unlike his time there was no main, central, training facility for Assassins. Each den trained their own Assassins and mixed them without thought. They also took older novices. The maximum age back home, and this was pushing it, was twelve. But here he saw fresh recruits in their early to mid twenties, and honestly very few children. It was strange to him. Novices were children. And for them _not_ to be children made everything slightly off.

He'd adapt though. That was what he was good at after all, adapting and changing to new situations and doing it quickly. It made him a good fighter, and made him able to handle this.

Yusuf was eating breakfast with Ezio when Rauf showed up. Ezio beckoned him over and the motion didn't go unnoticed. He didn't know if that was good or bad though. He didn't know this Order's political temperment or how the Turkish Assassins felt about their Mentor, who was clearly not Turkish. But he was too well trained to ignore even a wordless command so he went and sat across from Yusuf.

"There he is," Yusuf proclaimed in greeting with a wide smile.

"I trust you slept well, Rauf," Ezio said.

"One cannot complain," Rauf said.

"Of course not, for our hospitality is bar none," Yusuf insisted, "You must be hungry after following me around all day. Eat, eat," and he pushed food at Rauf.

He only bowed his head and picked out some slices of toasted pita, dipping it in hummus. "You did not exhaust our guest did you?" the Mentor asked the Master.

"He needed such excitement," Yusuf insisted. "And today there is even more I'm store for you," he added to Rauf who had his mouth full of food and this couldn't answer.

"Now what are you up to Yusuf. Some mischief most likely," Ezio said in a good natured scold.

"Nothing of the sort, I assure you my dear Mentor," Yusuf said, "Simply showing Rauf here how we do things in this era."

"He said he's going to show me what bombs are," Rauf finally got a word in.

"What bombs ar- Yusuf he doesn't even know what one is and you're going to teach him crafting?"

"What is there to know? It is a ceramic compartments that explodes," Yusuf shrugged. "You must have seen fireworks haven't you Rauf?"

"Once, yes," he agreed slowly. "For the death of Saladin they lit fireworks."

"Well a bomb is like a firework, only it does not fly, and can kill someone. They also tend not to be as pretty. There, happy Ezio? He now knows what a bomb is," Rauf decided to just say nothing and nibbled his pita bread, also sampling some of the olives and the tea without comment.

Ezio just sighed the sigh of a man who was tired and needed a rest from a child. Rauf grinned into his breakfast privately. "Yes Yusuf, now he seems to," he said.

"Once you're done we'll find some fun, yes Rauf? That is if you don't have need of me Ezio," but it was clear Yusuf was only half paying attention to him. He was more interested in Rauf like a child was with a new toy. Rauf didn't know if he should be flattered or insulted. He decided on flattered and offered Yusuf a grin in return.

"Just keep him out of trouble," Ezio said.

"I will," Yusuf promised.

"I was speaking to Rauf there," Ezio motioned to him in an off handed manner.

Rauf stared at him a moment and he sipped his tea to give him time to figure out what he meant. Then it became clear: Ezio had just made a joke. He wasn't used to Mentors with a sense of humor, as Altair did not have much of one, and what he did have was awfully black. He smiled at Ezio and put his teach down very deliberately before saying, "You have my word, Mentor."

The two older men laughed. Good. Rauf was not the best at humor. His brothers were much more serious than these Turks, he didn't have practice telling jokes. But he could do dry humor. Good to know they could appreciate that.

Once he'd finished breakfast Yusuf excused them both and Rauf followed behind dutifully. He followed Yusuf to another part of the den which was mostly just tables covered in earthen jars and bags with colorful ties and boxes of empty pots and ceramic balls. Rauf stared at them in confusion. Yusuf just grinned at him.

"This is the bomb room," Yusuf explained, "All of our supplies pass through rooms like these, and there are stashes around the city if you need to craft a bomb and can't get to a den for whatever reason."

"I still don't really know what a bomb is," Rauf admitted, there was simply nothing like it back home honestly.

"I will show you," and Yusuf beckoned him over. Rauf went and Yusuf selected a jar, a smaller jar, some black powder, and some brightly colored red powder. He packed the black powder into the small jar, poured a bit of red powder into the big jar then put the little jar inside the big jar, added a wick and filled it up the rest of the way with the red powder. Once it was totally filled Yusuf capped it. "This is just a tester," he said, "when it explodes it will create a red cloud. Also good for a distress signal," Yusuf nodded as if to himself. "But you saw how I made one, think you can do something like it?"

Rauf's mouth slanted in thought, "It doesn't seem particularly difficult," he said.

"Not at all, and it is fun as well," and Yusuf started pointing out all the things on the table. The different black powders, the different shaped casings and the bomb filler, which could be anything from the showy red powder to more black powder to barbs and things that weren't very nice. Rauf just made a little one to start, filled with a white smoke componant, with Yusuf's help.

"So this will explode?" Rauf asked, holding the little bomb.

"Yes," Yusuf nodded, "do you want to see?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Yusuf chuckled, "Come then," and he pulled Rauf outside of the den and down a street to a dead end where their tests would go unnoticed. "Now, for this one you have to light it, then run, so you aren't covered in the powder," and he put the jar down on the ground and he struck something, but not a flint, it created a small, white, spark and then Yusuf was clearing the area, dragging Rauf with him. They went to the end of the dead end and two seconds later the bomb went off. It threw up a _huge_ cloud of red dust and Yusuf clapped him on the shoulder in delight.

"Wow," Rauf said, staring.

"See, did I not tell you today would be exciting?" Yusuf asked.

"What about this one?" Rauf asked and held up the one he'd made as the red haze started to settle.

"Ones like this you throw," and Yusuf snatched the bomb from him and pulled out the lighter, a strange contraption that struck a peice of metal against another piece of metal with a flick of the thumb. It created the small, white, spark he'd seen earlier. It took Yusuf two tries to light it and then the wick started to burn quickly, Yusuf hurled it into the red cloud and it exploded mid air. A new, white, cloud filled the red cloud, thicker, denser, and hung in the air like a cloak.

"I am way out of my depth," Rauf said slowly.

Yusuf laughed, "Well we'll teach you how to swim," he promised and threw his arm down and across Rauf's shoulders, giving it a squeeze. Rauf looked at him like how he assumed novices would looked at him when he told them to do something insane. Yusuf just smiled though and it was hard to deny him. "We're going to need to start with getting you a hook blade."

"This again!?" Rauf cried, but grinned a little when he made Yusuf laugh. It was hard to not feel optimistic with him around, he was just always in such a good mood; all the time.


	5. Chapter 5

uhg, feelings

* * *

It was warm out and sweat dribbled down Rauf's neck as he watched some of the Assassins train their understudies. He'd learned in the past week that they weren't called novices now, but understudies. Rauf thought it was a useless change, but then novice made them sound like children. Which was, of course, the _point_. You were trained in the way of the Order as a child, a novice, and once you were worthy of it, got your whites. There was no such thing in this Order and honestly other then some very minor differences in uniforms understudies dressed very much like full Assassins. The difference was in their quality of armor and the shape and color of their hoods, also most understudies wore a muffler around their mouths or necks, some sort of mask. That was a new practice though, as it was instructors back home who wore masks, because they usually wore uniforms similar to novices, you had to be able to tell them apart.

Rauf still wore a mask. The full face black ones with the grill over his mouth. He preferred it honestly. In Masyaf few knew what he looked like under his mask because he wore it so much, because he was always in his teaching mode. Now here almost no one knew what he looked like as he took it off almost only when he ate or was alone. That way they wouldn't see his unease, the way he'd stare at them or shoot them sharp looks. What he was was very obvious when he didn't wear it because they… unnerved him. He didn't hate them, but he was uneasy around these men.

A understudy was thrown to the ground. He frowned. His teacher was awful, he wouldn't learn anything from them. "You," he called and stood up gracefully from his crouch, calling attention to the Assassin who had just beat them. "Is that any way to treat your student?"

They sort of scowled at him, but Rauf wore a master's robes, you could tell by the way the robes were layered, the cut of the tails, also the sash around his waist now had an addition, the symbol of the Turkish Assassins in iron attached to a belt he wore on his hip around his waist. It was in a useless placement but anywhere else made it hard to bend, the point of the Assassin's symbol digging into his gut. They did not wear such robes. "He is learning," they grunted.

"He'll never learn anything from you if this is how you teach," Rauf said, standing in front of him, hands on his sword harness. They stared into his mask, but the mask was heavy browed and his old hood was deep, effectively making it impossible to see his eyes.

"Who are you to say?" they asked, glowering at him and purposefully looking down on him. He was short, even in his era he was the size of a woman, this era was no different.

"I'm an instructor," Rauf said calmly. He felt an itch seep into his bones.

"We have no such things here. Mind your own business," they sneered.

As they turned Rauf tripped the man with a flick of the ankle. They weren't expecting it and fell with a yelp. "You should be more respectful to someone who could beat you, novice," he kept his words light, joking. They flipped over onto his back and stared at Rauf in a rage. Oh lovely. A hot headed idiot who thought they were good at fighting. Rauf still had his hands easily on his sword harness.

"Do not lecture me little man," he snapped.

"I will once you're actually bigger than me," Rauf said. "All I see is a tiny man with a big sword who hurts his student," he looked at the understudy who looked both in awe and horrified. But he'd been watching this man and his understudy for the past hour. The man was mean and harsh and didn't actually _know_ how to teach anyone. The boy, perhaps twenty, wouldn't learn anything from him. "And is actually a bad teacher anyway," he nudged him with his boot.

The Assassin lurched to his feet and Rauf was aware that the few other people training had stopped to watch. Rauf looking at the man calmly from behind the black, emotionless, mask. "Are you calling me weak?" he demanded.

"No. I'm calling you incompetent," Rauf said and the itch became a hum, settling on his bones and down to the tips of his fingers like touching sand paper. "Your understudy deserves better than you."

The man scowled at him, "I'll have you know I'm plenty competent."

"Not from what I saw. Your form is awful, you hold your sword too tightly, and I'm surprised you don't trip over your own feet. How on _earth_ did you ever get your whites?" Rauf cocked his head at him curiously.

"Big words from a little man," he growled.

"This 'little man' was a Master at age twenty three," he said flatly. Impressive to say the least, though he was no Altair who had gained it when he was barely twenty-one. Three years after gaining his whites. "Less you think I am undeserving?"

"I think you have a big mouth," the Assassin said darkly.

"Then try to hit me," he liked using this on novices. So many of them, especially as they got older, were taller than him. They liked to think that his height meant he was weak, that it made him lesser. This man clearly thought that. So if he wanted to act like a novice Rauf would treat him like one.

They swung at him and Rauf only ducked out of the way boredly, not even moving his feet. They blinked, confused when they're swing met only empty air, and then swung again. Rauf leaned back, still not taking a step. The next one he had to take a side to the left as they tried to tackle him. They ended up falling to the ground. "Come now. Surely you can do better than my students at home," he tutted.

The Assassin got up and drew his sword angrily. Rauf just put his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels, waiting. The hum grew and his hands ached. He ignored it. They lashed at him, Rauf just side stepped. They were angry and making stupid mistakes and it was easy for Rauf to just step just out of range, his hands behind his back, sort of hopping around the practice yard just out of reach.

The slashes became faster and more vicious. They thought they had to win, but Rauf had already proven his point. They attacked and instead of stepping away Rauf drew one of his swords at the last second and blocked. The sound of steel striking steel was loud in the little yard. Fire raced down Rauf's limbs and it was like he could see clearer than before. "Last chance before I humiliate you," though he knew they wouldn't, especially not after he said that.

That was what he wanted though.

The man attacked savagely. Rauf dodged. Rauf was a nice man, but it hadn't always been. He could be manipulative and blood thirty and right now his cool, calm, facade was starting to crack. He could feel it in the way his hands actually seemed to hurt when he held his sword, wanting to hurt, and _really_ hurt. He was straining against the seams and was just waiting for-

They managed to get inside his defenses, but just barely. He'd let himself get distracted as he pushed down a deep, dark, thing that lived inside his heart he didn't examine too closely and that along with the strain of what had happened and now this was starting to rise to the surface.

It was that, this tiny, insignificant, thing, of this man getting the best of him for half a second that just made him _snap_.

He heard a roaring in his ears and unlike many fighters who claimed they went tunnel vision during a fight, their pupils contracting, Rauf's dilated. A smirk rolled across his lips beneath his mask and he slipped away from the man and slid low into a form. They spun on him and Rauf caught their awkward sword and it was like he was water, rolling through the forms that had been beaten into him since he was a boy.

Rauf attacked, hard, fast, and with unrelenting force. The other Assassin could barely get his sword up in time. Rauf's smirk was gone. All that was left was a cold, blankness, under his indifferent black mask. Altair smiled when he fought, he wasn't the only one, but he was the only one who seemed so _gleeful_ about it. Rauf was not one of those. When Rauf really fought, and fought for real, he was serious, and did not emote, he gave nothing away. And now so even less as what was his fragile sense of coping fraying and shattering.

With a flick of his wrist he disarmed the man, but the hum had washed over him. Everything was crystal clear, but he did not see an Assassin. He saw an opponent, because he'd snapped and what he didn't want to be had crawled out of his heart and started to possess him.

Anger simmered low in his gut. He was angry. Angry that he was in this situation. Angry that he was alone. Angry now at this _stupid fucking man_ who didn't know his sword from his dick. Angry at Altair for ever having the Apple. It seeped into his, growing and unfurling and taking him.

He didn't stop. There is always the saying of the unstoppable meeting the unmovable object. Usually people liked to refer to him and Altair as such, especially when they fought. Rauf was that immoveable object to Altair's unstoppable force, they clashes and neither of them won, their fights lasting long into a stalemate until neither of them could move and they lay on the ground, swords abandoned, trying to simply breathe. But Rauf could be that unstoppable object as well and when he got moving he _did not stop_.

He hurled himself at the man, who was not just 'target'. It wasn't a man. It was a goal. Rauf had goals and his goals were targets and targets died. Distantly he heard people yelling, but it didn't matter to him.

Then, suddenly, someone crashed into him, steamrolling him and throwing him to the ground. He hadn't expected it and he was stunned for a moment. That moment was enough for him to regain his senses. His fighting trance fell away and he surfaced back to reality. People were yelling still and the man he'd been fighting was on the ground, bleeding heavily. All the blood rushed out of Rauf's face.

"What were you doing?" the person who'd tackled him suddenly demanded. Rauf stared at them, his horror hidden behind his mask. He heard the others calling for a doctor. He shoved them off him grabbed his sword and ran.

—

After nearly killing that man Rauf stayed holed up in his room. He locked the doors and the shutters and _didn't leave_. Rauf hadn't killed someone in a long time. He was a teacher now, not a killer. Not that he couldn't, as he could very easily, but he'd always been a gentler soul than his brothers. He could be a monster if required, but under most circumstances he wasn't.

For this reason his actions had so startled and scared him. That wasn't him. Or at least... Not for a long time. It'd been so long that his brothers forgot what he was like when he was younger.

Rauf had been the star of his class. He was three years older than Altair and had been the Master's favorite before Altair had shown his true colors and skill. But Altair had been so willing to listen as a boy, all he'd wanted was someone to notice him and praise him and follow orders and make his father, god bless Umar's soul, proud of him. He was a weapon, but a weapon with one master, and that had been Al Mualim, now he was dead and Malik was his hand. In this way Altair was more controlled then him, and easier to manipulation.

Rauf was and had never been like that. His own father had given him to the Assassins because he was the youngest son and they couldn't afford to feed him and his siblings. As a young man he'd been angry, wild, and rebellious. But also perfectly suited for their blood work. He'd learned his work effortlessly, using his anger to drive him. He was sent on missions both solo and in groups and he never failed. He /never/ failed. He did not want Al Mualim's favor, or his approval. To Rauf he was just another old man who used young men for his own aims, just like his father. His brothers were scared of him, because he was fierce and ruthless and a butcher.

One time Al Mualim sent him on a mission with a group to take out a man in Arsuf. His entire team was killed, but he lived, and awoke in the very care of the man they'd been sent to kill, too weak to move and totally at his mercy. But Rauf didn't fail.

Even weak he'd tried to kill his target but the man just stopped him. He got better, the man, who's name he learned was Kabli, helped him. It was humiliating, but humbling.

Kabli was a skilled swordsman, and when Rauf was well asked him if Rauf would like another shot at killing him. Rauf tried.

He failed.

Kabli kept letting him try to kill him, but only with swords. He was there for weeks, and slowly forgot wanting to kill Kabli. He couldn't kill him, as he'd saved Rauf and nursed him back to health. Eventually he was strong enough to fight in his full form, but he didn't want to kill Kabli anymore, for the man was nice and actually rather gentle, he didn't know why Al Mualim wanted him dead, or if not him than who. Kabli showed him how to fight with two swords, as he was a master of many weapons, all of them foreign and exotic. Though he meant what he said to Yusuf. Exotic was a term for novices, and what a novice he'd been.

He spent a year with Kabli, because nothing waited for him at home. All there was back at Masyaf was pain and training and a Master who saw him as a wild dog. Kabli also tempered his wild rage, teaching him to control it, dampen and use it to his advantage. Rauf became a dueler, as the Order had plenty of butchers.

But this did not last. The Order sent more men after Kabli but like before Kabli slew them, and left no survivors this time, Rauf was amazed /he'd/ lived. But this was not a simple assassin attempt, people really wanted Kabli dead. He was going to leave Syria, head east, to India, where the stain of Al Mualim couldn't touch him. He told Rauf to go home, but he didn't want to go. There was nothing for him there. Kabli wouldn't let him come with him though and drove him away, vanishing before Rauf could find him again.

So he returned to Masyaf. He'd been gone a year and in that time Altair had eclipsed him. Before that would have infuriated him. Now it dis nothing. He was above his anger. It was beneath what he was capable of and it would not ruin him like it had before. Everyone was even surprised he was alive. He spun a tale of hunting Kabli across Syria before he vanished like a ghost.

It was the only mission Rauf had ever failed.

Al Mualim did not take kind to failure, and punished him, denoting him to little more than a novice. He didn't care and unlike expected he didn't fly into a rage, he just accepted it.

While he'd been gone it turned out his parents had given a younger brother he'd never met to the Order as well. Seif was eight and a new novice. Rauf did not want what became of hum become his brother so he did as he was told, shifted focus, and became an instructor the novices would not fear and yet hate to fail for another reason beyond the strike of Rauf's hand.

He didn't get angry. He didn't kill. He didn't hurt children. He was a good teacher and found ways each student could learn the moves they needed to learn, all the while keeping himself at the top of his game. Rauf was the perfect instructor and quickly what he was was forgotten. His brothers forgot the angry, bitter, blood thirsty, killing machine he had been, preferring to think of him as kind, understanding, a devil with a sword and a monster with two, but not someone who would ever raise their hand or voice in anger. Altair was that now, that monster the Order had bred, one to kill _everyone_ who got in his way. Rauf was a Master Instructor and that was how he wanted to stay, helping people, as Kabli had helped him, instead of just killing them.

That was why it was so upsetting. He swore he'd never hurt someone unless they deserved it again. Especially after the coup where Seif had been slain and he got to bury his little brother. He didn't want that. But he had. That man would have died if someone hadn't stopped him.

It was a break. He knew it was. He'd just /snapped/ from the strain of life and knowing that everything he knew and loved was dead, gone, and he'd /never/ see them again. A lesser man would have broken before. But Rauf was not lesser _anything_, he was strong as steel and just as deadly and he /did not break/.

Except he had. He'd broken and done it spectacularly, the man he'd been rushing to the surface all at once to beat his own frustrations into the man he'd been fighting. It had been swift and horrifying and Rauf wouldn't have _stopped_ without that other person holding him back in the end. They were lucky he hadn't turned on them and destroyed them too.

Rauf was a monster.

A very scared, lonely, out of time, monster.

It was why he didn't get out of bed because he just _couldn't move_. It was like he was completely paralized and nothing could make him move. He'd just thrown off most of his clothes and crawled into bed after the event, shedding the layers of protection and safety of his clothing to be just another man. Out of his whites he was just a man, flesh and blood and fear and pain and curled up in his bed, back facing the door unable to move and had sobbed into his pillow.

He hadn't cried since he was a boy. Since his father had, basically, sold him to the Assassins. His world had been ripped from under him and apart into a thousand different strands and he hadn't known how to cope with the pain and loss of his family bartering him away like a sack of flour. He'd eventually reacted in anger that had made him a monster.

He couldn't do that though. Not again. Never again. He was better than his rage. So instead of rage he felt shame, because he _was_ ashamed, that he'd let it get the better of him. Let it infect him. Let it worm it's way into his being and begin to destroy him. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't. Because if he let it get the better of him this time, if he _relapsed_, that would be it. It was a dark place he didn't want to go.

So he stayed away, because he needed time to cope. To breathe, to not interact with people. To not have to deal with the world. He just couldn't. He couldn't function in the world because it was hard and it hurt and he was surrounded by people and in an amazing city, the jewel of the middle east, and he was so _alone_.

His friends were gone.

His brothers were gone.

The man he thought of as Mentor was gone.

His students were gone.

His home was gone.

His little Seif was _gone_.

He was all alone and it was enough to drive a man mad. As it was it drove Rauf to torture himself in his room, hiding under the covers. He didn't eat, and he only got up to use the chamber pot, and he slept a lot. When he wasn't asleep he was staring at the wall, or crying, because he was grieving. Grieving for a life he'd lost and never have back.

On the second day he didn't go out, once it was dark out, someone came knocking on his door. Softly at first, hesitant. Rauf pretended not to hear. Then there was knocking again, louder this time, less hesitant. He still didn't answer. He nearly jumped when the knocking became very loud. "Rauf," it was Ezio. "Are you in there?"

He didn't answer the old man. The Mentor. Shit. _Mentor_. This man was not the Mentor he knew, not the one he wanted or needed. Ezio knew nothing and knew nothing of him. He was a name, but little else.

"Ezio there is no need to sound so angry," he heard a new voice, barely through the door. Yusuf.

"I'm not I'm concerned."

He didn't hear Yusuf's comment, "Rauf, are you in there? Open the door," Rauf did not move and instead held his pillow tighter. "Rauf? At least say if you're inside?"

"Should I pick the lock?"

"No you idiot what are you thinking-

"That's no way to talk to your Mentor."

"You're an idiot though I cannot be blamed for this," their voices barely made it to Rauf through the door. They reminded him of Altair and Malik honestly. Bickering like idiots. "Rauf," he called again. "If you don't answer we're going to pick the door-

"You just said I couldn't-

"Be quiet you have no tact," and then his voice raised again to be heard, "We just want to be sure you aren't dead. That would be very unfortunate you know. But I'm sorry we can't have dead bodies in the den," and Rauf bit into a smile. Even on the most macabre subject somehow he made it seem light.

He waited, nothing happened. "Can I _now_?"

"Yes okay fine pick the lock," he barely heard Yusuf say and he heard the door knob being clicked against a moment later.

Rauf looked over his shoulder and stared at the door before sitting up and sliding off the bed. He was just in a pair of night pants and his legs were stiff from laying down so long, but he walked over to the door. He heard the lock click and as he reached for the knob he wiped his eyes though he knew they had to be big and puffy and red. He heard Yusuf and Ezio talking just outside his door, but not what of. He wrapped his hand around the door knob and opened his door.

The two older men were silent as soon as Rauf opened his door and turned to him. "Oh wonderful," Yusuf said, "you aren't dead!"

"No," he agreed in a very small voice, feeling every inch of his own height, which wasn't that much, especially compared to Ezio and Yusuf who were even taller than Altair, who was one of the tallest men he knew that wasn't a crusader. They didn't tower, but Rauf had to look up to not stare at their chests.

"Excellent," Yusuf said and he saw them both trying to look like they weren't concerned, or to stare at his face. He could only assume what it looked like and it _felt_ awful, so he assumed it looked as it felt. "Are you all right?" Rauf just looked at him but said nothing. "Uh…" and Yusuf had nothing to say in that silence.

"Why did you lock yourself up Rauf?" Ezio asked him.

"Because I miss home," he said and knew he sounded heart broken. He could see it on their faces. He rubbed his face with one hand, "I… did not mean to make you worry," he sighed.

"Well you did," Ezio said gruffly.

"Ezio, you are so unsympathetic," Yusuf scolded him. "Rauf has come a very long way it, should be expected of him to be home sick." Then Yusuf ignored Ezio totally, even as the Mentor actually said something. Rauf didn't hear him though because Yusuf just talked right over him. "Are you hungry? We haven't seen you in two days."

"No I—" but even just the _mention_ of food suddenly reminded his body he was _starving_. His stomach growled loudly, protesting profusely. Yusuf laughed, "As I thought," he said smiling. "Now, put on a shirt, we'll get you something to eat," and he made a slight shooing motion at Rauf. He looked up at the Turk and his smile and just… felt better honestly. It was very hard to be in a bad mood around Yusuf, impossible honestly. So he went and found a shirt, which he dug out of the trunk. It had a hood sewn to it and he jerked it up, also grabbing his old cloth mask and unthinkingly wound it around his face, covering himself.

Ezio and Yusuf were talking, but he wasn't listening. They stopped when he went back over to them. "Right," Yusuf said, all grins, "to the dining hall," and he wrapped his arm around Rauf's shoulders and propelled him down the hall, Ezio closed the door and followed behind them quietly. Rauf thought perhaps he should have also put on some shoes.


End file.
